Fading Image
by mochachill
Summary: A mysterious ailment affects the crew--some more than others *COMPLETE!!*
1. Default Chapter

**Fading Image**

Disclaimer: Star Trek is owned by Paramount; this story is strictly for recreational purposes!

Chapter 1 

"Smile, it makes people suspicious."

Trip laughed out loud at Travis's muttered comment, offering his first genuine smile to their alien photographer. Their Mr'lar guests were awfully camera happy, in his opinion, and coming from him that said a lot. They were only going to be touring the ship for a few hours, but it seemed like forever. For some reason, this particular Mr'lar had latched onto him from the second Jon had introduced them. 

Trip had been giving him a tour of Engineering, and every time he turned around, a flash of light went off in his face. He was starting to wonder if camera flashes could cause permanent blindness. Finally, he managed to drag the guy to the mess hall.

As soon as the door opened, he spotted Travis at a table and made a beeline, grateful for any distraction. Travis saw him coming, eyes widening, and practically leaped to his feet. He tried to dump his dishes and slip past Trip and his guest. 

Trip caught him midstride, throwing his arm around Travis's shoulders and turning him back around to walk with him. "Travis! I'm glad I caught you, buddy. Have you met our new friend Jec?" 

Travis's look of defeat lasted only a millisecond before he turned on his usual charm. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he said with a broad smile. His reward was a flash of light. He and Trip stood blinking for a moment.

"Greetings," Jec said in a high-pitched, whiny voice. The excess folds of pinkish skin around his face quivered damply. Trip swallowed and pointedly looked away, making a mental note to avoid jello—for the rest of his life. 

"We were just about to have some lunch, Travis. Join us." The tone of his voice made it clear that it was not a request. He hadn't removed his arm from Travis's shoulder, just in case the Ensign tried to bolt. Clearly, Travis had seen enough of their guests to know that he didn't want to see anymore.

"Wait," Jec wheedled, holding up his camera. "May I?"

_Oh, well, how nice o' you to ask_, Trip thought darkly. Outwardly, he smiled tightly and said, "Of course." 

That was when Travis uttered his little comment, making him laugh. Indeed, after his vision cleared again, Trip saw that Jec _was_ looking at them a bit suspiciously.

"Ever had potato soup?" he asked Jec quickly. He gestured for the Mr'lar to precede them to the food dispensaries. He took one step after Jec, only to notice Travis was missing. He caught the Ensign's arm just as he reached the mess hall door. "Nice try," he said threateningly. And plastered on his host smile again while he dragged Travis back inside.

***

"THANK GOD," Trip said loudly, slumping against the wall outside the launch bay. Their visitors had just departed, cameras flashing all the while. 

Jon smiled at his friend's dramatics. "Trip, it wasn't that bad. The Mr'lar are an interesting culture. Their advances in medical science might prove to be invaluable." They began walking down the corridor.

"Maybe so," Trip countered. "But I've never been so happy to see the leavin' side of anybody."

Jon grinned and opened his mouth, but Trip interrupted him. "I know what you're gonna say. An' it's easy for you to think it wasn't that bad. You didn't have a personal fan like I did."

"No. But some of the other crewmembers did get their attention."

"Well, I'm jus' glad it's over. T'Pol and Malcolm'll never know how lucky they were, bein' able to hide out in decon." Trip stopped as they came to a divide in the corridor that led to Engineering. "I'll see you tonight at dinner." He hurried gratefully back to his Warp Core, easily forgetting the Mr'lar.

***

Hours later, he was frowning at a console, running some figures over and over. For some reason, he couldn't get them to add up. It was strange; it was a simple equation, and he had never had any problem with this particular task.

"Archer to Tucker."

"Go ahead, Cap'n," he said, still punching numbers.

"You still planning to join us for dinner, Trip?"

The question pulled Trip, however grudgingly, out of his fog. He stood up straight. "Oh, umm, yeah, sorry 'bout that. Got kinda buried in my work. I'm on my way now."

"Fine, we'll see you in a few minutes. Archer out."

Trip stepped back from his console, trying to physically shake the cobwebs out of his brain. 

"Are you all right, sir?" He found Lieutenant Hess standing at his elbow, looking concerned.

"Yeah…yeah, I'm fine. Just headin' out for dinner. Could you…?"

He trailed off. Hess was already at his console, punching in numbers. "I can finish this up for you, sir….there." She smiled at him and walked away.

Trip leaned in to the console. Sure enough, she had finished it in about five seconds. He had been staring at the damn thing for twenty minutes, getting no closer to figuring it out. He was truly annoyed with himself, but pushed it back, reminding himself that he was lucky to have such capable people under his command.

Feeling better, he took off for Jon's dining room.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Star Trek is owned by Paramount; this story is strictly for recreational purposes!

**Chapter 2**

Travis and Malcolm sat in the mess hall, enjoying their dinners while Travis described his experience with the Mr'lar. 

"It was _weird_," Travis said. "They _all_ had a camera. One of them must have taken a hundred pictures of me sitting at my station during my shift. He acted like he didn't want to leave when it was time for the tour to move on."

Malcolm stabbed irritably at a piece of chicken. "I can't believe they were allowed on the bridge—with _cameras_, no less. If I didn't know better, I'd say the Captain deliberately scheduled their visit during the time I would be stuck in the decon chamber."

Travis smothered a grin. He suspected that was exactly what the Captain had planned; Malcolm wasn't known for his diplomatic skills. Travis, on the other hand, was a bit more tactful; he carefully redirected the Lieutenant's attention.

"Well, I barely escaped to the mess hall to get lunch and Commander Tucker walked in with another one and cornered me. I had to sit through a whole meal with my pupils dilating in and out every ten seconds." To emphasize his point, he widened his eyes, scrunched them, and made them huge again. "The Commander's guest was even worse than the ones on the bridge; he never stopped taking pictures. He ate with one hand so he could hold the camera in the other." Travis demonstrated, feigning taking photos with one hand while eating. Reed chuckled.

Travis looked down at his food, pushing it around on his plate. "And their appearance isn't exactly conducive to a healthy appetite. I can never eat anything pink again."

To Travis's immense satisfaction, Reed laughed. The Ensign considered it a personal victory anytime he could get Malcolm to let down his guard enough to laugh out loud.  

"May I join you, gentlemen?" They hadn't noticed Doctor Phlox's approach, but they immediately made room at the table.

"Of course, doctor," Malcolm said politely. Phlox sat and looked at them brightly. The effect was a bit like being studied under a microscope.

"I was just telling the Lieutenant about our Mr'lar visitors," Travis told him, by means of distracting him. 

"Ah yes. An interesting group. In fact, several of them came by the medical bay while you were in the decontamination chamber, Lieutenant." 

"Did the picture-taking drive you crazy too?" Travis asked.

"Actually, they seemed a bit disappointed at first. In many aspects, I have much more to learn from them in the field of medicine than they do me. However, when I described some of my less orthodox remedies, they perked right up. I finally had to ask them to leave; all of the flashes were disturbing my animals."

"I wish I'd had that excuse." Travis looked over and saw Hoshi enter the room. He waved and called out to her. "Hoshi!"

She appeared not to notice, and walked past them to the food dispensaries. Gathering her dinner, she glanced around the room, eyes finally settling on their table. She smiled and walked over to them. "Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all," Travis answered, smiling. "I tried to call you but you didn't hear me."

"Oh. Well, sorry." Hoshi dropped into a chair and turned to the other table occupants. "Good evening, Lieutenant. Doctor."

Malcolm smiled and Phlox answered in Denobulan, "Good evening, Ensign. And how are you today?"

Hoshi's brows knit together. "Umm…" She shook her head. "I'm sorry, doctor. I'm feeling a little off. Could you repeat that?"

"Never mind," Phlox said, in the language they could all understand. "I simply asked how you are."

They settled into a discussion of the Mr'lar. Hoshi confided that she'd suffered a similar Mr'lar camera attack. As they talked, Commander Tucker came into the mess hall and helped himself to a cup of coffee. Seeing them all gathered together, he grabbed a chair and swung it around to their table, straddling it backwards.

"Lemme guess what you all are talkin' about."

Travis gave him an answering grin. "The Mr'lar. That was some lunch today."

Trip snorted. "Yeah. An' let me tell you," he said, pointing his finger at Travis, "you ever try to leave me high an' dry like that again, I'm gonna make you _real_ sorry."

The Ensign tried to look repentant but failed. "Sorry, Commander, but in a situation like that, it's every man for himself."

Tucker just laughed. "Yeah, can't say I blame you. If I coulda found a tactful way to ditch that guy, I'd a done it in a heartbeat. I'm tellin' ya, if I ever get that annoying with my camera, I want one of ya to shoot me."

"Consider it done, sir," Malcolm promptly replied, deadpan. The others were startled. Trip looked at him dryly. Malcolm grinned a little and went back to his chicken.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Star Trek is owned by Paramount; this story is strictly for recreational purposes!

Chapter 3 

Hoshi entered Engineering long past the time she usually was asleep. For once, the noise didn't assault her and the room was comfortably warm. That was another thing that she had to get used to; space was cold, even in a climate-controlled atmosphere. But then she was usually cold anyway, even back on Earth. A side effect of her slim build.

She found Trip glaring at a console. When she said his name, he turned to her with unfocused eyes, still frowning. For a moment, she thought he might not recognize her; then his expression cleared.

"Hey, Hoshi. What's up?"

Hoshi smiled hesitantly. "Sorry, sir. I know it's late, but…is everything all right?" 

Trip cocked his head and folded his arms across his chest, leaning against the console. "Whadda ya mean?"

She shook her head. "I'm not sure. It's just that I noticed the ship sounds different."

"Different how?"

Hoshi looked embarrassed. "Well, I couldn't sleep and I realized it's because the ship sounds…off. Not wrong exactly, just…well, it's like part of the sounds are missing. Everything is quieter."

He smiled at her. "You mean now your complaining because Enterprise is _too_ quiet?"

"I know it sounds strange. But I wanted to check."

Trip swung back around to his console, saying, "Well, far as I know everything is runnin' just right. I…" He stopped, staring at the screen.

"What?" Hoshi said, apprehension in her voice. 

Trip ran a hand over his face, making a frustrated sound. "Nuthin'. I think I've been workin' too hard; all of this just looks like gibberish to me." He looked back at her. "I can tell you that we haven't had any problems down here. Maybe you're just gettin' used to it, finally."

She looked doubtful, but shrugged. "Maybe. Well, goodnight, sir."

"Goodnight." He faced the console, then called out to her. "Wait, Hoshi." 

"Sir?"

"I have definitely been starin' at this too long. I'm gonna turn in, too. Want some company for the walk?"

She smiled at him. "Sure."

***

As they walked the halls Hoshi became increasingly uncomfortable. It was so quiet. The silence was almost deafening. Trip watched her out of the corner of his eyes. 

"Hoshi, maybe you should go see Phlox. You aren't acting like yourself." He smiled, concern on his face.

Hoshi nodded absently in his direction. Maybe seeing Phlox isn't such a bad idea. They reached her door and Trip watched as she entered her key number. 

"Hoshi, promise you'll see Phlox?" 

"Yes, Commander. First thing tomorrow. Goodnight." She shut the door, leaving Trip in the hall.

Trip made his way toward his quarters. When he got to his door he raised his hand to enter the code, but stopped staring at the numbers. 

Ok I know my damned lock code 

He kept looking at the numbers, periodically rubbing his eyes.

_Man what is going on?_ _I think a visit to the doc is in order for me too._

"Commander?" Malcolm asked from down the hall. "Is everything alright?"

Trip laughed uncomfortably. "Yeah, I just can't seem to remember my door code. Ya mind helpin' me out?" 

Malcolm leaned over, putting in the override command.

"That doesn't seem like you. Tomorrow come see me and we will reset this to something you can remember." Malcolm grinned at him.

Trip looked confused and said, "Yeah. One that I can remember. Well, thanks."

He started to walk in his door, but turned back to Malcolm. "Maybe I should go lay down." He stared at Malcolm, not really seeing him.

"That's not a bad idea." Malcolm watched him turn back into the room the door closing behind him.

"That was odd." Malcolm said to Trip's door, then headed back to his own quarters.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Star Trek is owned by Paramount; this story is strictly for recreational purposes!

Chapter 4 

The next morning Malcolm was working at his console when Travis entered the bridge. He watched as Travis slowly made his way to his seat, slumping down when he got to it.

"Good morning, Ensign."

Travis didn't say anything.

"Good morning, Ensign." Malcolm said with more force.

Travis raised his head, looking around in confusion. He stared in Malcolm's' direction, seeming to not really focus.

"Good morning, sir."

Travis swung dazedly back to his console, staring but not actually working.

Malcolm glanced over worriedly at Subcommander T'Pol, who was currently on duty. She raised an eyebrow in Malcolm's direction.

"Travis, are you feeling well?" Malcolm said as he walked over toward the Ensign.

Travis looked back at him, slowly blinking his eyes.

"I guess not, sir. I am having a little trouble with my eyes this morning." Travis frowned rubbing at his eyes.

At that moment a yawning Archer stepped out of his ready room. 

"Good morning crew." He slumped down in his chair, yawning again.

_'Well what a lively crew we have,' _Malcolm thought.

Malcolm said, "Captain, Ensign Mayweather is not looking well. I believe it would be best if he went and saw the Doctor."

Archer continued to yawn looking around the room. Then, suddenly realizing Malcolm was talking to him, he nodded and waved his hand as if shooing them off.

"I believe that means the Captain agrees, Lieutenant," T'Pol said watching the Captain.

"Yes, that is fine." Archer said clearing his throat and attempting to sit up straighter. 

Travis stood, but stumbled, falling to the floor. He quickly stood up. "Could someone help me? I seem to be having a little trouble seeing."

Malcolm could hear Travis trying to keep the concern out of his voice. He exchanged a look with T'Pol. Walking over, he took Travis' arm, leading him to the lift. "I will be back in a minute, sir."

Archer appeared to have nodded off but sat up and shooed them with his hands again.

Malcolm looked back at T'Pol, who again raised an eyebrow.

**

As soon as the lift doors opened on the deck where Sickbay was located, Malcolm and Travis were assaulted by noise. "What is that?" Travis asked.

"I'm not sure," Malcolm replied curiously, leading Travis forward. The noise level grew, as they got closer to the Sickbay doors. When the doors opened, Malcolm pulled up short. 

The room was crammed with crewmembers, most of them looking worried and talking at once. Phlox was nowhere to be seen. Malcolm saw Hoshi sitting on a biobed in the midst of the chaos; Trip was leaning against it beside her. Unlike many of the crew, neither of them was speaking. Trip watched the others distractedly, while Hoshi just stared at the floor. Malcolm led Travis over to them. Once they got up close, the Ensign was able to see well enough to seat himself next to Hoshi. 

"What the hell is going on?" Malcolm asked Trip bewilderedly.

Trip focused on him. "I can't say, exactly. People are sick, I guess."

"Well, why are you here?"

Trip frowned worriedly. "Cuz there's somethin' wrong with me…with my memory but maybe something else." He dropped his hands to side, then folded them again as if he weren't sure what to do with them. "I can't…I went into engineerin' this mornin' and I couldn't read the equipment. I couldn't hold a tool." By the end of his speech, his voice was a touch panicky. 

He took a deep breath, fighting for control. Malcolm stood quietly until the Commander was able to look at him somewhat calmly.

"Where's Phlox?"

Trip shook his head. "I just walked in right before you. But nobody's seen the doc." 

Malcolm nodded and moved to the small room that served as Phlox's office. He pushed the chime and knocked on the door. There was no response; he used his override code to open it. Inside, he found Phlox sound asleep in a chair. 

"Doctor?" Malcolm nudged the Denobulan with his hand. Phlox didn't move.

_Right then_. Malcolm reached for the com, hailing the bridge. When T'Pol's voice came back to him, he said, "Subcommander, I need to speak with the Captain."

"At my suggestion, the Captain has returned to his quarters to rest," she replied calmly. "Could I be of assistance?"

"I hope so. We have a definite problem on our hands. Can you come to Sickbay?"

Malcolm paused. "And you might want to wake the Captain for this."

"I am on my way."

***

By the time T'Pol and a sleepy Archer arrived, Malcolm had managed to get the crewmembers to settle down—beginning by speaking to them calmly and finally barking at them to "find a location, settle in, and keep you're bloody mouths shut until I can figure this out." 

"No offense, Commander," he added as a sidebar to Trip. 

Trip smiled wanly. "None taken." He turned his head to face Jon and T'Pol, who were entering. 

T'Pol wasted no time. "Where is the doctor?" At her voice, Travis looked in their direction. Hoshi remained quiet, still staring.

Malcolm nodded in the direction of the office, and she walked off briskly. In the meantime, Jon was asking questions about what was happening.

"I don't know, sir," Malcolm told him. "But it seems that everyone here is suffering from varying degrees of some illness. I've spoken with several of them while you were on your way. The odd thing is, everyone is exhibiting different symptoms. The only thing they seem to have in common is a general lethargy."

Jon covered a yawn and nodded, smiling wryly. "I think it's safe to say that I've got it as well—whatever it is." He slumped against a biobed across from Trip. 

"How are you doin'?" he asked his friend.

"Ok…a little shaky." Trip didn't smile, and for the first time, Jon seemed to come out of his fog and looked worried.

"Travis? Hoshi?"

"I'm ok, sir," Travis answered, despite having to squint to make out the Captain's face. Hoshi didn't even move. Travis nudged her and she looked up at him, surprised. 

"Are you all right?" Travis asked her.

Hoshi huddled up on herself. "I can barely hear you," she said softly. She offered no other explanations of her condition. Travis took her hand in his. She smiled at him gratefully and wrapped her other hand around his before returning her gaze to the floor.

T'Pol rejoined them. "It appears that the doctor has gone into his hibernation state."

"Now? So soon after the last time?" Jon asked. 

"Whatever is affecting the crew, it is likely that Dr. Phlox has contracted it. In the event of illness, a Denobulan's body automatically drops into a state of hibernation until it has fully recovered."

"Great," Trip muttered, speaking for all of them.

"Ok." Jon stood up straight, trying to look confident. "T'Pol, see what you can do to wake the doctor. If you can't, you'll have to take over for him and try to figure this out. Malcolm, Trip, I want you to interview all of the crew. Get a list of their symptoms and the severity. Find out if everyone has been affected."

Malcolm nodded. As the Captain talked, he gathered up two PADDS. He handed one to Trip. The PADD immediately slipped through the Commander's stiff fingers, crashing to the floor. 

Trip looked stricken. Frustration crossed over his face. "I can't even hold a PADD now. It's gettin' worse."

"Perhaps it would be best if Commander Tucker rests, sir. Of all of the crew, his case appears to be one of the worst." Archer nodded at Malcolm's suggestion. Tucker seemed ready to argue. Malcolm placed a hand on his shoulder. Catching Trip's eye, he glanced pointedly at Travis and Hoshi.

"Commander, I'll be sending most of the crew back to their quarters, but a few will need to stay here for observation. May I suggest that you remain here and assist the Subcommander in keeping them calm?"

Trip knew when he was being placated, but for the moment, he was willing to accept any job that would keep him busy. He nodded.

"All right. Malcolm, it looks like you're on your own for now." Jon picked up the dropped PADD and handed it to him. "As you come across less affected crew members, get some of them to assist you—but first make sure there are enough personnel on duty to keep us going. In the meantime, I'll be on the bridge, sitting in for Travis." He strode towards the door, saying over his shoulder, "Right after I swing by the mess hall for a thermos of coffee."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Star Trek is owned by Paramount; this story is strictly for recreational purposes!

Chapter 5 

Trip sprawled on his back on a biobed. There were only a few other crewmembers in the room—Malcolm had gone through the room quickly, dispersing people to their quarters or stations based on their conditions. He was now in parts unknown of the ship, continuing his work.

Crewman Cutler was in the back of the lab with T'Pol, assisting her with her research. Cutler had been only slightly affected by the illness and was employing the Captain's caffeine approach to stay alert. At the moment, she was preparing hyposprays that would help the least affected fight their drowsiness, while T'Pol sought a cause and cure.

Trip stared at the ceiling. He had tried to help T'Pol with her research, only to discover that he no longer had the ability to decipher even the simplest written words—he'd forgotten how to read. Now he waited, just trying to think clearly. "Doesn't this just suck?" he asked no one in particular.

Still sitting on the biobed with Hoshi, Travis looked in his general direction and laughed. The Ensign now had his back against the wall. Hoshi was sleeping beside him, turned so that her head rested in his lap.

"At least some of us can take advantage," Travis told Trip. "This'll be the first quiet night she's had since she came onboard."

Trip finally grinned a little, turning his head towards Travis. "You're takin' this awful well. How come you aren't freakin' out like the rest of us?"

Travis shrugged. "Not much point. My panicking isn't going to get us cured any faster—it would only slow the process down, really."

Trip sat up slowly. "You know, Travis, we haven't worked together that much yet, but when we do, you never fail to impress me."

"Thank you, sir." Travis said, pleased.

"Call me Trip. We're off duty—and we will be for a while, it looks like."

Travis smiled but anything he might have said was interrupted by the sounds of the sickbay doors. Before he had to ask, Trip said, "It's Malcolm."

Data PADD in hand, Malcolm hurried in. "Hello," he greeted, but walked past them to T'Pol.

"What have you learned?" T'Pol asked immediately.

"Well, the majority of the crew is exhibiting only mild symptoms, much like the Captain. Lethargy, difficulty concentrating. Only two crewmembers are completely unaffected. You and me." 

"The only two who had no contact with the Mr'Lar," T'Pol commented.

Malocolm nodded, face serious. "Exactly. Also, eleven crewmembers are suffering from a much more extreme variety of the disease. The symptoms vary from person to person—loss of fine motor skills, hearing, sight…"

"Ability to read," Trip said tiredly. He came up behind Malcolm and rested against a counter. "I wanna hear what's goin' on," he informed T'Pol before she could send him back to bed.

She simply looked back at Malcolm. After glancing between them, he continued. "I have found something else interesting. It seems that the eleven all managed to catch and hold the attention of the Mr'lar for extended periods of time. I'm not sure what it means, but the more time a crewmember spent with a Mr'lar, the more ill he or she is now."

Trip rubbed a hand over his bleary eyes. "It's only a few hours, he said. Just give him a little tour, he said. Next time I'm stickin' to Engineering and lettin' somebody else play diplomat."

Malcolm smiled a little. T'Pol said, "There was no way to anticipate the repercussions of the Mr'lar's visit. All of the guests were scanned for illness before they joined us."

Trip just waved a hand.

"If that's true, than what is going on?" Malcolm asked.

"I do not know."

Malcolm sighed. "Well, I don't know if it will help, but I compiled a list of everyone's symptoms. Perhaps these, combined with physical examinations, will lead us to something. In the meantime, I've already contacted the Captain and suggested that we look up our old friends, the Mr'lar. I suspect they'll have some answers for us—whether or not they're eager to part with them."

"For once, ol' buddy, I think you're paranoia might be right on track," Trip said. Malcolm tossed him an ironic look.

Trip added, "I'll be over here if you need me. Think I might lie down for a little while…" He turned and shuffled back to his bed.

Malcolm exchanged glances with T'Pol. In a low voice, she said, "Lieutenant, tell the Captain that haste may be in the best interest of our crew."

The armory officer nodded and hurried off to speak with Archer.

Trip had heard the conversation and recognized the worried undertones. Unable to stir up the energy to be concerned, he stretched out on the bed and closed his eyes.

**

Malcolm walked back on to the bridge, still surprised to see the Captain in Travis's seat at the helm. Archer was still sipping on coffee but seemed more alert. The bridge was nearly empty; a skeleton crew was posted at only the most necessary stations around the ship.

"Have you found anything, Captain?" Malcolm asked.

Archer swung around in his seat.

"I picked up a trail about ten minutes ago that appears to be the Mr'lar ship. I set a course heading in that direction. Ensign Miller is sending out hails to try and get their attention."

Archer glanced around the bridge, then stood and motioned for Malcolm to follow him. They walked back to the situation room.

"How are they doing?" Jon asked, looking worried.

"Understandably upset. Ensign Sato is sleeping; Ensign Mayweather is holding his own. I sent most of the eleven to their quarters to rest while Subcommander T'Pol looks for a cure. Most of the crew seems to be recovering on their own, while the eleven get worse." Malcolm paused. "Sir, Mister Tucker is not faring well. He appears to be getting weaker."

Jon looked away and then back at Malcolm.

"We need to step up our efforts. I'm increasing warp speed." Jon started to walk back up front; Malcolm followed.

"Agreed. I will return to sickbay now. Perhaps I can assist the Subcommander." Malcolm started to leave.

"Malcolm," Jon said.

Malcolm turned back around, smiling at him.

"I'll keep an eye on Commander Tucker, sir. At the first sign of trouble I will contact you."

Jon nodded and headed back to his seat.

Malcolm stepped onto the lift and hit the button for the sickbay deck. As the doors closed, he heard Ensign Miller say, "Sir! I'm receiving a hail from the Mr'lar!"

Malcolm stuck his hand out just as the door shut and pushed it open again. He moved to the Captain's side quickly. Jon was already instructing Miller to put it on screen.

Jec's fleshy pink face appeared. "Greetings, Captain." His whiny voice irritated Malcolm immediately. "You wish to speak with us?"

Jon stood up from the helm. "Yes, I do. Since your visit with us, my crew has fallen ill…"

"I am sorry to learn of this," Jec interrupted.

Jon gave him an annoyed look. "Thank you. My science officer believes that you can be of assistance. So far, all we know is that the more time a crewmember spent in the company of a Mr'lar, the more ill they are now. Can you explain that?"

"I cannot," Jec assured him. Malcolm snorted. Jec continued, "We will gladly offer any assistance, Captain. Our medical team is extremely capable. Perhaps we should return to Enterprise."

"Our officers haven't recovered from your last visit," Malcolm snapped.

Jec looked at him curiously. "May I ask who you are?"

"Lieutenant Reed. I'm the armory officer."

Jec's interest was piqued. "Then you are an expert in weaponry?"

Malcolm gave the Captain an exasperated look. Jon intervened, saying loudly, "Maybe we could focus on the problem at hand." Jec turned his attention back to the Captain. "If I allow you to come over, how do I know you won't be infecting the rest of my crew?" 

"We will limit ourselves to your medical lab and the patients that are already ill. Please, Captain, allow us the opportunity to correct this problem. I feel responsible." Jon motioned to Miller to cut the sound.

"Captain, I do not believe we should trust them," Malcolm insisted. 

"Is T'Pol anywhere close to finding a cure?" Jon asked. Malcolm shook his head curtly. 

"I _don't_ trust them, but we don't have any other options," Jon decided. "We'll confine them to the medical lab. I want you to put together a security team to stay there in the lab. We'll stick our people in EV suits, just in case." He nodded to Miller.

Looking at the screen, he told Jec, "Put together your team. Let us know when you're ready to board."

**

Two hours later, Jon and Malcolm were suited up and meeting Jec and his crew in the shuttle bay. A newly refreshed security team flanked the officers. Thanks to Cutler's hyposprays, most of the crew was feeling more alert—including the Captain. 

When the hatch doors opened, Malcolm noticed the Mr'lar were carrying cameras.

"What the hell are you doing with cameras? You want pictures of our injured crewman?" 

"Easy, Mr. Reed," Jon said before turning back to Jec. "I would like to know why you brought them." 

He watched the diminutive little alien fidget.

Jec did his impression of a smile.

"We plan to take more pictures for our medical analysis, Captain. And we had not yet met Mr. Reed. We prefer to document every new encounter." He picked up his camera to take a shot but was stopped by Malcolm's hand grabbing the lens.

"I don't think so," Malcolm said, his voice lowered menacingly.

Jec nodded and let the camera drop. He stepped back from Malcolm.

Jon indicated for them to follow and led everyone to sickbay. With a single gesture, Malcolm posted two of his team members outside the doors. Two more followed them inside.

When they entered, they saw Trip, Hoshi, and Travis, all asleep in biobeds. T'Pol stepped into view, also in an EV suit. Jec's eyes widened when he saw the Subcommander.

"You are Vulcan, are you not?"

 T'Pol nodded and said, "Yes. If we could address the problem at hand…"

Jec looked excitedly back at his crew and raised his camera again.

This time Jon stepped in front of him.

"It might be best if we eliminate distractions. I suggest you hand your cameras over to Mr. Reed."

Malcolm motioned to a table behind him. The Mr'lar set down the cameras. Jec took out a scanner. He walked over to the closest biobed, which contained a sleeping Trip, and ran it over the Commander. Another Mr'lar did the same to Hoshi.

In his sleep, Trip moaned. His body cramped up as if in a total body spasm. Hoshi didn't move, but machines around them both began to scream. 

"Sir?" Sitting up in bed, Travis turned his head frantically, trying to determine the source of the sound. 

Malcolm grabbed Jec and shoved him back. The other Mr'lar jumped away from Hoshi.

"What the hell is going on? T'Pol, what's the matter with them?" Jon rushed over to Trip's side.

"What did you do?" T'Pol said to Jec. She took out her own scanner and moved towards the Commander.

"We have done nothing. I simply ran a scan over him." Jec grabbed a hypospray from his bag and injected first Trip, then Hoshi. The machines became quiet. Their heart rates increased to normal. Trip's body relaxed.

"Can you help them or not?" Jon said, breathing a little easier now. "It's ok, Travis. Just give us a minute," he added. Still looking worried, Travis settled back down.

"We will take these scans back to our ship. We will contact you when we have everything. Now, we would like to return to the shuttle bay," Jec turned around, grabbing cameras.

"That's it? This is how you help?" Jon demanded.

"You haven't even seen the rest of the patients!" Malcolm shouted.

"There is no reason to detain the Mr'lar. Mr. Reed, would you escort them?" T'pol said suddenly.

Looking frustrated, Malcolm nodded. They left sickbay, the security team following.

Jon turned back to T'Pol. "That was out of line, Subcommander. You want to tell me what's going on?"

"I am picking up unusual readings, Captain." 

"What kind of readings? Where from?" Jon asked. 

"From the camera. It seems Jec… accidentally… left one behind." She extracted a camera from the cubbyhole where she had hidden it.

Jon walked over to a com on the wall. "Lieutenant Hess?"

"Go ahead, sir."

"Our Mr'lar guests are preparing to disembark. Do you think you could arrange for them to stay with us a bit longer?"

"You know those pesky shuttle bay doors, sir. They never have functioned quite right."

Jon smiled. "Great. Archer out." He turned back to T'Pol. "Well, let's crack that puppy open. I want to know what the hell is going on."


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Star Trek is owned by Paramount; this story is strictly for recreational purposes!

Chapter 6 

"We will not be able to help your colleagues if you do not allow us to leave."

Malcolm faced Jec. He kept his tone even as he responded, "I told you fifteen minutes ago that Lieutenant Hess is doing all she can. As you know, we are severely understaffed at the moment." _And I'm sure you don't know anything about how we came to be in this predicament_, he thought angrily.

Jec went back to pacing. His six Mr'lar companions huddled in various parts of the shuttlebay, staying as far from Malcolm's people as possible.

The door hissed and Captain Archer stepped through, followed closely by T'Pol. They had both removed their EV suits, and were dressed in the formfitting gray outfits that went under them. Seeing them, Malcolm removed his helmet, and nodded for his team to do the same.

Archer walked straight to Jec, towering over him. "We just had a look at one of your cameras," he said furiously. Jec made a little whining sound. Archer leaned into his face, saying, "We are going back to Sickbay. And you are going to undo it. NOW." 

Malcolm watched the scene with great interest. He still didn't know what was happening, but he was relieved that Archer and T'Pol seemed to, and that they believed his friends could be cured.

Jec took a step back. "Captain," he wheedled, "my people have taken great steps to move beyond our…baser instincts. We are extremely uncomfortable with physical confrontation. I must ask you to remain calm." 

"CALM? You use these things to infiltrate my crew's heads and steal everything inside, and you want me to be calm?"

"We had no idea our tools would have a permanent effect on humans!"

"Knowing did not stop you from repeating your attack on Commander Tucker and Ensign Sato," T'Pol pointed out.

Jec turned abruptly. "We are leaving." The other Mr'lar moved to join him on their shuttlecraft.

Malcolm and his team moved fast to block them, but they weren't as fast as Jon. He snatched Jec by his shoulder and yanked him upwards, saying, "What you're _going_ to do is help my people."

Jec made a funny sound, drawing the attention of all of the Enterprise crew. A sickly, wet, squelching sound that Malcolm first thought was the result of Archer's manhandling. Until Jec's loose skin started to _move_. 

Archer let go fast and stepped back. 

The sound echoed through the rest of the Mr'lar crew. While Archer and his people watched, mystified, their skin stretched and warped to accommodate the growing size of the Mr'lar. 

Before Malcolm could blink, each of the seven Mr'lar was twice his own height and girth. Their skin was stretched hideously thin, so that blood vessels, bones and organs showed through their pale hides.

The humans and T'Pol started to back up instinctively. 

"You should have let us go," Jec said, his voice stretched as thin as his skin. "We only took a few—now we will take everything."

He extended a long, gristly hand towards the Captain.

Malcolm opened fire, striking the Mr'lar in the chest. Jec shuddered, but did not stop. The armory officer had a crazy thought that thin skin ought to make one vulnerable—it would only be fair. Before the Lieutenant could get off another shot, a Mr'lar was at his side, crushing his lower arm with one hand. Despite the protection of the EV suit, Malcolm shouted in pain and the phaser fell uselessly to the floor.

His four crewmen had already been disarmed and rendered unconscious—most of them by being bounced off the walls. Jec held T'Pol and Archer each by one arm, dangling them so that they were forced to stand on tiptoe.

Archer swung his leg up, connecting with the M'Lar's squishy skin. His foot seemed to sink into the soft tissue mass.

"OK. That is just disgusting," Archer said between breaths. Jec screamed at this and threw him into the wall. Jon slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Malcolm threw himself forward onto the phaser. Raising it quickly, he fired at close range. This seemed to stun the alien enough that he dropped T'Pol. T'Pol ran toward the door with one look at Malcolm, who nodded. She sprinted out into the hall.

Jec turned toward Malcolm and picked him up by the scruff of his collar.

"Where is the camera?" Jec asked, his rancid breath puffing into Malcolm's face.

"I'm flattered, but I doubt we'd make as cute a couple in pictures as you might think." Jec growled and dragged him out into the hall. Malcolm's head smacked on the doorway as they left, leaving a wide gash across his forehead.

As they rounded the corner before Sickbay they saw T'Pol dash inside. Jec hurried forward and crashed through the doors. Malcolm looked up to find T'Pol standing with a camera in her hand. Glancing over at the biobeds, he saw Trip and Hoshi's still forms, but no Travis.

Jec's henchman inched toward T'Pol. She backed up, holding the camera.

"Give me the camera, or I snap the little one's neck," Jec said.

Malcolm growled and used his sleeve to swipe at the blood oozing down his forehead. T'Pol handed the camera over to the henchman, who handed it to directly to Jec. The Mr'lar dropped the Lieutenant onto the floor so hard that it knocked the wind out of him. He rolled over, wheezing. 

Jec raised the camera with a smile. He opened it and a blinding light poured out. T'Pol and Malcolm watched as Jec's size grew yet again while he sucked the light into his mouth. Jec breathed deeply, inhaling as his skin stretched even tighter.

"Bloody hell," Malcolm said. 

The Mr'lar both ignored him. As soon as the light stopped, they both turned to the biobeds containing the still forms of Hoshi and Trip. They took a few steps towards them, clearly intending to finish their work. Before T'Pol or Malcolm could move to intervene, Jec stopped and shouted, "Where is the pilot?" 

"I do not know to whom you are referring. Enterprise has several members who fit that description." T'Pol answered calmly.

Jec pointed a squishy finger at her. "Take me to the Bridge. We are taking control of this vessel."

He then pointed at Malcolm and said to his henchman, "Kill the little one." 

He grabbed T'Pol and they headed down the hall.

The henchman turned back to Malcolm, who was struggling to rise, and pointed his weapon. He fired a shot but Malcolm dove clumsily behind an empty biobed. The shot scorched the wall behind him instead. Looking around fast, he grabbed a sharp instrument that Phlox had left out. He stood quickly, threw the weapon hard. It landed with a wet noise, sinking into the soft flesh of the Mr'Lar's head; the alien fell to the floor.

Malcolm hastily stripped off his EV suit. Dressed in the gray bodysuit, he walked over, took the Mr'lar's weapon, and darted out the door.

**

Travis crawled along inside the vents. His vision was no better—he feared it was getting worse—but it was so dark where he was that it hardly mattered. He was judging by memory and feel which direction he needed to go to get to the bridge. He thanked God and his parents one more time for his upbringing, which allowed him to know the inner workings of a ship inside and out. The Bridge needed to know about the severity of the situation. Coming to a fork he listened, trying to hear any sound that could indicate where he was going. He was sweating from nerves, heat, and exhaustion. He heard a scuffling sound to his left.

"That better not be a rat." 

Reassuring himself that Enterprise _probably didn't have rats—small comfort in the dark—he scooted to the left, hoping that he was headed in the right direction._


	7. Chapter 7

Note from the authors: Thanks so much for the great reviews so far; sorry it's taken so long between updates. We ran into a case of writer's block on this one, but we're finally back on track. Next post will our last—the end is in sight!

Disclaimer: Star Trek is owned by Paramount; this story is strictly for recreational purposes!

Chapter 7 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Malcolm moved silently down the hall. He was forced to step around several crewmembers lying in the floor of the corridor along the way. Checking a few, he found that they were unconscious, but breathing. _I guess I'm the only one annoying enough to kill straight out_, Malcolm thought acerbically.

Arriving at the shuttlebay, he glanced inside quickly, checking that he was alone except for the unconscious crewmembers. Seeing no one else, he jogged over to where the Captain lay. 

"Captain?" he said softly, bending over him.

Jon answered with a groan and rolled over to look up at Malcolm. His memory came rushing back and he sat up quickly. He swore and grabbed his head, but swatted Malcolm's hand away when he tried to help him stand.

"Where is Jec?" he asked, balancing precariously against the wall.

"He is with T'Pol, sir. They are headed for the Bridge. I tried to contact Hayes to warn them, but our communication system seems to be down. But Travis is missing; I think he may have gone to warn them." 

Jon looked surprised. "Isn't he blind?"

"Yes, I believe he is." Malcolm turned back to Jon. "If anyone can get to the Bridge blind, it is Ensign Mayweather." As he spoke, he moved to the closest downfallen member of his security team. Shaking the man awake gently, he assisted him in sitting up. "All right, Russo?"

The Ensign nodded, despite the nasty-looking bruise on his forehead, and then flinched, lifting a hand to his head.

Malcolm and Jon went to the other three crewmen. Two of them woke easily, but Jon was unable to revive the third man. Malcolm looked at him worriedly, but there was nothing they could do until they had regained control of the ship. 

Jon glanced around at them all. "Malcolm," he started.

The Lieutenant nodded, interrupting him. "I know, sir." He looked at his men. "Can you walk?" All three nodded and struggled to their feet. Crewman Harris slipped right back onto the floor, his eyes unfocused. He tried again, but Jon put a hand on his shoulder, holding him down.

"I think you're going to sit this one out, Crewman," he said in a tone that discouraged argument. Not that Harris had much of an argument in him.

Jon turned went toward the door, gesturing for the others to follow. Malcolm stopped him with a hand on his arm. Going around Jon, he opened the door, looking outside before leading them into the hall and on to the armory. Inside, Malcolm headed for a weapons locker. From it, he took out a large Bowie knife. He selected several smaller knives and handed one to each of them.

"From my personal collection. You can stun them with a phase pistol, but the only effective weapon so far has been one of Phlox's surgical knives." He looked meaningfully at them. "I expect to get these back, gentlemen."

Jon turned to the crewmen. "I want the two of you to head down to guard Sickbay. Protect everyone in there at all costs." 

The men nodded and hurried into the hall, weapons drawn. Malcolm gripped the Bowie knife in his hand, and he and the Captain left the armory.

**

Travis heard voices ahead of him. He crawled faster, and paused where the voices seemed loudest. Holding very still, he became aware of air circulating around his face. That meant he was close to an opening, so he started to feel around. _Shouldn't I see light by now?_  He pushed the thought away, along with a rise of panic. The opening his fingers found was too small for a human adult to fit through. Thinking fast he crawled a little farther, hopefully over the Situation Room. He believed he had seen an access door in the ceiling there once. 

Once again, Travis felt around him. He grunted with relief with his hand closed over a small handle. With all of his upper body strength, which seemed to be failing, he shoved outward. The small door clanged open—but he saw nothing. Again swallowing panic, he pulled himself forward so that he could push his legs through the opening. The voices nearby were silent now. With a quick prayer for luck, he let himself drop. 

He hit hard, arms flailing wildly. He would have crashed into the floor, and maybe the table, but hands grabbed his upper body, steadying him.

"Ensign Mayweather?"

"Lieutenant Hayes!" Travis turned his head in the direction of the man's voice. '_I'm completely blind'_ echoed in his brain, even as he gasped, "Lock down the bridge, sir, fast!"

"What…?"

"NOW!!" Travis shouted. He felt Hayes move a little and heard scurrying feet. He allowed Hayes to help him to sit on the floor before the Lieutenant moved away. Sweat dripped down the Ensign's face; he felt completely drained. His head was getting fuzzy and he only wanted to sleep. When footsteps approached, he fought for alertness. 

Above him, Hayes said, "It's done. Now tell me what's going on!"

"I only know what I overheard, sir. The Mr'lar are attempting to take control of the ship—this sickness came from their cameras. They were stealing from us...something." He couldn't quite remember the details. He talked loudly, trying to be heard over a strange roaring sound. Alarm at this new threat gave him the strength to struggle to his feet. "Sir…"

He pitched forward, coming in contact with someone who caught him. "Do you hear that?" he muttered. 

Hayes said, "Hear what? Ensign?" 

Travis lost consciousness even as he realized the sound was in his own head.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Star Trek is owned by Paramount; this story is strictly for recreational purposes!

Chapter 8

~~~~~~~~~

The viewscreen blipped on, displaying several suspicious Mr'lar. 

"Why are you contacting us?" one of them whined.

"My name is Lieutenant Adam Hayes. I am temporarily in command of Enterprise." Hayes, a slim man with caramel colored skin, drew himself to his full height. "I am contacting to warn you. Call off your crew or we will have no choice but to retaliate."

The Mr'lar spokesperson looked nervous. "What are you talking about?"

"Your crewmembers are attempting to gain control of this ship. I'm told that you are also responsible for the illness our crew has been suffering. This is a mission of exploration, but we are prepared to meet force with force," Hayes warned. Privately, he hoped he sounded more authoritative than he felt.

The Mr'lar's eyes widened. "Are you saying that our crewmembers have become violent?"

"Yes. Now order them to CEASE AND DESIST," Hayes said, growing impatient.

The Mr'lar nodded off to his side. Sound from their ship disappeared, although Hayes and the rest of the skeleton bridge crew could still see a group of them conferring in hasty conversation. 

The Mr'lar spokesman faced the screen again as sound was restored. He looked at them calmly. "Lieutenant, I apologize. Our crewmembers are not acting on orders. We never take more than a few specimens from any species…"

"You only take a few?!" Hayes interrupted incredulously.

The Mr'lar nodded as if he was glad to see that Hayes understood. "If our people are attacking, we can only assume that you have provoked them into relapsing into their…baser instincts. Unfortunately, showing our simpler forms to other species is strictly forbidden. We cannot allow you to pass on this information."

"Sir!" The Ensign at Lieutenant Reed's station gasped. "They're charging weapons!"

~~~~

Malcolm and Jon eased down the hall quietly. As soon as they neared the lift, they heard the screams. Both tensed, then relaxed as they realized the noise was coming from Jec. He was screeching in frustration at the lift's refusal to work. He was also shouting to his people to reactivate the com system; another Mr'lar replied that it was done. 

"You will order them to release the Bridge or we will kill you," Jec said, obviously addressing T'Pol. His paper-thin voice grated on Malcolm's ears.

"No," T'Pol said simply. A thudding sound reverberated against the walls.

"You will, or I will execute every member of this crew, one by one. Starting with this female."

Malcolm peeked cautiously around the corner. T'Pol was currently several feet off of the floor, held against the wall by Jec's hands on her arms. Two other Mr'lar hovered near the lift. An unconscious female crewmember, lying facedown, was on the floor nearby. Malcolm couldn't identify her, but her red stripes indicated she was probably a member of his or Trip's team.

Jec forcefully thumped T'Pol against the wall. Malcolm winced at the sound of her flesh smacking. Her head lolled, but she looked back at the Mr'lar defiantly.

"Do you want her to die?" Jec shrieked.

T'Pol answered very calmly, given her current position. "You plan to kill us either way. Why would I prefer to save her so that you may benefit from her death?"

Jec threw her down hard beside the crewmember. She sprawled face down, then lifted her head to look up at him while he spoke. 

"We will make due without your assets or help. Kill them," he instructed the other two Mr'lar. He turned back to the lift, intent on overriding the lockout.

Malcolm didn't look at Jon; he didn't have to. The two of them moved as one to protect their crewmembers.

Malcolm slammed into the closest Mr'lar, who was bending over the Subcommander. His momentum gave him the strength to knock the immense alien down. He landed on top, knife in hand and slashed downward. The Mr'lar howled and bucked, throwing Malcolm backwards. 

The Lieutenant landed in a heap—right next to the Captain. They exchanged a wry look as they struggled to sit up. All three Mr'lar loomed over them, the women forgotten. Malcolm could see T'Pol rising behind them, with the clear intention of aiding her comrades.

The Mr'lar disappeared with a flash of light. T'Pol, lunging forward, stumbled and ran into the wall behind Jon.

"What the hell…?" Jon said.

Before he finished the sentence, the ship shook violently.

"They're firing on us!" Malcolm jumped to his feet and rushed to the com. "Bridge, this is Lieutenant Reed. The Mr'lar are gone; unlock this lift, NOW!"

"Aye, sir," Hayes tense voice replied. With a hiss, the lift door slid open, and Malcolm, Jon, and T'Pol crammed inside. 


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Star Trek is owned by Paramount; this story is strictly for recreational purposes!

Chapter 9

~~~~

Jon scrambled out of the lift as the ship was hit by another blast. He stumbled but quickly righted himself. Looking to his right, he saw an unconscious Travis propped against the wall. Malcolm was already shoving the Ensign at the tactical post aside.

"Brace yourselves! They're firing again!" Malcolm yelled.

"Hull plating down to 30% Captain," T'Pol said. A loud boom and the bridge shook yet again.

"Mr. Reed!" Jon yelled, grabbing onto his chair for balance.

"Firing torpedoes, sir." The Mr'lar ship shook violently. 

"Direct hit."

"Hail them, Ensign," Jon said.

"No response, sir."

Malcolm quickly said, "They're charging weapons again, Captain."

"The hell they are. Blow them out of the water," Jon snarled.

The armory officer fired several more rounds. They watched the Mr'lar ship shudder.

"They are breaking apart," T'Pol said.

The Mr'lar ship exploded, falling piece by piece into oblivion. 

Jon swore under his breath. "And there goes our cure," he said. "And I'm going to have a hell of a time explaining this to Starfleet." He looked back at Travis, focusing on the problems at hand.

"Let's get Travis to Sickbay. Malcolm?"

Malcolm and the Captain went to Travis's side. T'Pol was already there, checking his vital signs. At a nod from her, Jon grabbed the Ensign's shoulders and Malcolm took his legs. They lifted him between them and moved to the lift, T'Pol following. 

Jon grunted out, "Hayes, you still have the bridge."

"Aye, sir."

As the door closed, Jon tossed out, "Nice job today, Lieutenant." He almost smiled at the pleased look on Hayes's face.

Squashed inside the lift, arms straining from Travis's weight, Jon faced Malcolm again.

"You too, Malcolm." 

Malcolm shrugged the comment off. Frowning down at Travis, he said, "It isn't over yet."

~~~~

Malcolm entered Sickbay and dumped the contents of his arms onto the closest table. "That's the last of them," he said, turning to T'Pol and Archer. "My people have gone over that shuttle inch by inch; they didn't leave anything else in there."

Archer nodded and picked up one of the cameras Malcolm had brought in. "As soon as we can figure out a way to reverse the effects, these should come in handy," he said. His bleak face, however, belied his words.

T'Pol, bent over her equipment, didn't raise her head, choosing to focus on her attempts to find a cure for this odd illness.

Malcolm wandered over to the biobeds. Trip, Hoshi, and Travis occupied them; the remaining ill had been left in their quarters until there was something that could be done for them.

Malcolm looked over at Trip. The Commander was too still—but then, so were Hoshi and Travis. Travis was lying exactly as Malcolm and Archer had left him when they carried him in several hours ago. All of them looked fragile, eyes sunk into deep purple sockets, their cheekbones standing out against paled skin.

_Probably my three closest friends on this ship_, Malcolm thought miserably. The frustration of not being able to help them pounded at him. _What good is being an expert in weaponry? I'm completely useless!_

"Malcolm!"

His head snapped around. Archer was watching him irritably, and Malcolm suddenly realized he'd been pacing up and down the room. 

"Sorry, sir," he said stiffly, forcing himself to stop moving. He settled for compulsively opening and closing his fists at his side.

"That's all right," Jon said, sighing. "We're all a little frustrated." He turned back to T'Pol. "Anything yet?" 

He leaned in close, trying to see her progress. Malcolm walked over to join them and peered over her other shoulder.

T'Pol's head came up fast, but her voice was level. "When I do find something, I will notify you both immediately." She stared at Malcolm. He stepped back from her and she looked at Jon. The Captain chose to be oblivious to her irritation.

He leaned in again, ogling her notes. T'Pol stared at his ear. _If looks could kill_, Malcolm thought, mildly amused despite their situation. Instantly he felt guilty and tamped down on the feeling.

He approached and leaned over the counter as well. If he didn't know better, he would have sworn the Subcommander sighed.

"What are we all looking at?" 

The voice from behind caused them all to whirl. Standing there, looking as cheerful as the day he boarded the ship, was Dr. Phlox.

Malcolm said, "Doctor! You're awake!"

"Yes, Lieutenant. I was feeling a bit poorly earlier, but it was nothing that my hibernation cycle couldn't take care of. Now, may I ask what the three of you are doing here and why I have three patients?"

Archer, initially struck speechless by the Doctor's sudden appearance, rushed forward. He grabbed the Doctor's shoulders. With a huge grin, he said, "Doctor, I've never wanted to kiss a Denobulan before…"

"And I see no reason to start now," Phlox said, carefully extracting himself from the Captain's hands. He was trying not to look too horrified at being touched—and failing.

Archer and Malcolm laughed.

Phlox turned T'Pol. "Now, Subcommander. I assume you require assistance?"


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Star Trek is owned by Paramount; this story is strictly for recreational purposes!

Chapter 10

~~~~

He opened his eyes and looked into the anxious faces of Malcolm and Jon, both of them hovering over him. 

"Gah! Give a guy some room, wouldja?"

As they stepped back, he looked around the room, blinking against the light. At his side, Jon grinned. "Welcome back, Trip."

Trip stirred, looking at Jon with one eye. "I feel lousy."

Jon chuckled. "I imagine you do. But the good Doctor here has managed to reverse the effects of the Mr'lar's equipment. He says you'll be feeling like your old self in no time."

Beyond Jon, Trip could see Phlox leaning over another biobed, carefully scanning Hoshi. Finishing his scan, the doctor turned and hurried into the other room.

"Hey, is she ok?!" Trip asked. He started to sit up, but hands pushed him back—Malcolm. Trip looked at him fretfully. "An' what about Travis? An' the others?"

The Lieutenant smiled. "They're all going to be fine now." 

Trip relaxed. Nerves calmed, he returned their smiles. "Lemme see that PADD, Malcolm." He smiled happily when he was able to read the PADD's contents with no difficulty. Still skimming through it, he asked, "Didja find the Mr'lar or did Phlox figure it out on his own?"

Jon shifted uncomfortably. "Both, actually."

Trip looked up expectantly.

"We found them, but they weren't much help as it turns out," Malcolm said. "In fact, I believe your crew is working double time to get the repairs made now."

"Repairs?! What the hell happened?"

Embarrassed, Jon said, "Turns out they were well aware of their equipment's effects. We tried to convince them to reconsider their actions…but we were forced to destroy their ship in the end."

Trip stared at him. Finally, he drawled, "Lemme get this straight. You made me play diplomat for an entire day with one a those creepy little guys—who all the time was suckin' me dry—and then you went an' blew 'em up anyway?" He frowned, adding crossly, "Seems to me we coulda skipped a few steps in there and saved ourselves some trouble."

Jon coughed, looking away. "Right. Well, the Doctor says you need your rest and I need to go see about the repairs."

"I'll join you, sir." Malcolm glanced back and smiled at the still-bristling Commander. "It is good to talk to you again, Trip." He followed the Captain out of Sickbay.

Trip snorted. Hearing soft laughter, he turned his head to his right. Travis was sitting up in the biobed beside him, grinning.

Trip returned the expression. "I see you still haven't lost your good humor. But ya look like crap."

Travis laughed. "Likewise, sir. And there was a little bit of a rough period while you were out, but my spirits are definitely back on the mend."

"Good to hear it." Trip squirmed and sat up. "So, doc say how long we gotta be stuck in here?"

"At least two days," Travis said with a sigh.

"What about everybody else?" Trip demanded. "Why's it just the three of us?" 

"Doctor Phlox says we have to conserve our strength. The others were already in their quarters, so he's allowing them to stay put. But…" Travis shrugged, "we weren't so lucky."

"Well, great." Trip folded his arms, ducking his neck once in irritation. A sound to his left caught his attention. He turned his head and found Hoshi lying on her side, watching them both with a lazy smile.

He smiled at her. "Hey, Hoshi. You look awful pleased with yourself."

"I was just listening to the two of you talk. I missed that." She propped her head up on one arm. "Believe it or not, I even missed the sound of the warp engine."

Behind Trip, Travis laughed. "We'll see if that's your story two weeks from now."

Hoshi just smiled at them. 

Trip slipped back down into bed. Seeing his friends in good health again gave him a warm feeling of contentment. He lay that way, basking in the sensation, for about ten seconds. His hands, lying at his sides, began to tap. Another ten seconds later, he sat back up.

"So," he said, ignoring their amused expressions. "Anybody got any cards?"

The End

~~~~~~

Please R&R!


End file.
